For Kiana Calloway, the brick wall became a green screen for theatrical performances and football games. For Sunny Jacobs, meditation brought her to a lush patch of grass and her children’s rooms at bedtime. And for Frank De Palma, 22 years without a mirror meant he didn’t recognize the man who finally emerged from the 6 x 9 foot cell.
All three narrate the devastating “Inside, The Valley Sings,” directed by Nathan Fagan with animation by Natasza Cetner. The rotoscoped short film recounts the experiences of the trio, who were collectively isolated in solitary confinement for 36 years. Each shares how they coped with the inhumane conditions that barred any connection with another person. Dissociation and psychological torment reigned, providing relief and torment within such a cruel environment.
Solitary confinement is the practice of detaining a person in a cell for nearly or all of 24 hours. This type of segregation cuts off contact with others and sometimes lasts for days, weeks, or, as we see in the film, decades. The U.S. imprisons more of its population than nearly every other country and is the only Western nation to allow the practice, which the U.N. recognizes as torture and has sought to outlaw. A 2023 report estimated that 122,000 children and adults are held in solitary confinement in U.S. facilities each day.
The traumatic effects of segregation can also last well beyond prison. “Even today, I wake up with cold sweats, having nightmares of screams, howling from the cells next to me. Or hearing a guy that’s mentally ill four cells down from me that’s beating and screaming and hollering for a security officer to come down there and give him some type of medical treatment, only to get beaten,” Calloway says.
What “Inside, The Valley Sings” does particularly well is mimic the conditions of the cell. We witness tightly cropped frames and claustrophobic aerial views. And because each person is presented in grayscale, they become part of the carceral architecture, with only their orange uniforms—signifiers of their inmate status—and fantasies in bright color.
“My hope is that audiences will understand what survivors have been telling us for years: that solitary confinement is a form of torture, pure and simple,” Fagan writes in a statement about the film. “And any justice system that claims to be grounded in the dignity and rights of the individual must recognise this.” It’s worth reading the stories of all three narrators on the film’s website, which also offers more information about the campaign to end solitary confinement.
